Too Late
by Naruka
Summary: Omi thinks about his life. please ignore, bad at summaries.


Too Late

Nope don't own the Weiss boys, never, ever will.

Ignore this wonderfully depressing fic, I am sorry this idea popped into my head and wouldn't go away. It is the first fic I am posting so at least try and be kind. If you don't like badly written angst then read another fic, don't say I didn't warn you.

He always felt like this, he could not remember a time when he was truly happy. Not once. Well the moments when he was truly happy were too few and far between to make up for the terrible feelings he had. He knew that putting on this happy facade he always did, the mask made it so people did not worry about him. He was glad, he would never be able to talk to anyone anyway. Who did he have to talk to, Persia perhaps? No, never around. Manx? No, she only came around when their was a mission. His team mates? They might understand, but they have their own problems and he did not want to burden them with his. The kids at school? That was laughable, they did not really see him, they saw even less of the real him than his team. He stayed away from most people at school, so that was no help. Well that leaves no one, as he suspected.

How he wished things could be different, a family, a real family, no killings, no death, a normal job, friends, real friends, not the people who were thrown together to become Weiss. He wanted normalcy, that's all he ever wanted, a normal life. He never gets his wish, why does he even bother caring or trying anymore.

He really hated these thoughts. "STOP" he said aloud, only to stop his mind from going any further. He did not used to always have these thoughts, but now it seemed like it was more frequent. It used to be months between these thoughts and even then only after tough missions, then weeks, then only days and not it seemed like every hour he started thinking, no he had to keep himself from thinking these thoughts. It was hard to know that he had no one to turn to face his problems, his lost innocence, the blood he sees even now when he looks at his hands. He just wanted to stop, just wanted to be normal, live a normal life, go to college, get a girlfriend maybe.

No he could never be normal, never have a life, never go to college, never grow up and have a family and a normal job. He had a girlfriend of sorts, she died because of him. He had a family, which he killed with his own hands. He has a job, a job where he kills people who hurt others. He still feels no better than the criminals he kills at night. What was the difference? It was hopeless, no matter how hard he tried, these thoughts kept coming. Hopeless, hopeless, hopeless, that was the word that kept replaying.

Somehow he was managing under all this turmoil in his head, to still be cheerful around his team. How he wondered he could still smile when he felt his thoughts and his guilt choking him so bad he thinks he'll die in the shop. How can he pretend to be so joyful with customers when he saw rivers of blood, blood he has spilled run past. The ghosts of people he killed parading around the shop, pointing accusing him. No one notices his inner hardships, he is unsure whether this is a good thing or not. How much can he take before he snaps and they notice, he hopes it does not come down to that.

Days pass, weeks as well and he tries to push the unhappy thoughts plaguing his every waking moment a living hell. He tries to push past the pain, all he can do though is put on the happy face for his team, his customers and the people at school; it seems he can not push the thoughts out of his head. He feels even more hopeless now knowing these thoughts won't go away.

He makes a decision, unsure if it is the right one or not he puts it on hold for a few days and thinks about it. He is sure that this is the best for everyone, after all he is doing no one any good in his current state, his bad ideas could distract him on a mission and put everyone in danger. He knows this, and it happened, he was daydreaming during a night mission while he was watching surveillance cameras. He did not see the guys sneak up behind Aya and before he could mutter a word of warning on the radios he sees the red-head stabbed. It was not a deep or particularly bad wound and Aya was still able to take down the target, but that was not the point, the point was his thoughts were hurting others now, not only himself. How could he live with himself after allowing his team to get hurt, he couldn't, it was as simple as that.

He decided that it was now or never, the end was near for him and he felt in some small way happy, peaceful. His demeanor changed, he could smile a real smile, and laugh with his classmates at school. No one notices the change, only he does.

He closes the shop with Yohji, who whines the entire time about wanting to go out, he speeds up the process, rushing, not only to allow Yohji his time out, but he wants to get it over with. He locks up the shop and he and Yohji walk into their separate rooms. He goes and takes a bath as normal, but this time after he bathes he does something very different. He takes his razor, the one he never needs because he does not seem to grow facial hair and slices through his wrists cutting the important arteries he knows are there. He then sticks his wrists under hot water, watching his blood spill for once puts him vaguely at some sort of peace and begins to feel the effect of massive blood loss, and he falls slowly to the floor. He did not plan on his team finding him though, he did not plan on what would happen after, he did not think far enough in advance. He vaguely hears the knock on the door and when he can't find the strength to answer he hears the screaming begin as they try to push through the locked door and he passes out as Aya and Ken smash open the door to find his crumpled body just under the sink, water still running and blood pouring from the gashes on his wrists.

He wakes up barely to hear the ambulance coming for him and the ride to the hospital. The next few hours are hazy, but he hears people coming in and out of the room they put him in. He hears the doctors and nurses fussing over him, people coming in and out. Questions to his team mates standing outside his room from the doctors, then the questions from his team mates to his doctor.

"No, I never noticed any suicidal behavior before, he never acted that way." calm and stoic Aya was able to answer.

"The blood loss is a very big problem, he lost more than three pints of blood. I am unsure if he will make it. HIs bidy can not take th stress, we tried to replace the blood, but it does not look good. Would you all like to say your good-byes?" the doctor tells the duo of Aya and Ken who moved into the room. He could hear Ken asking him why. He heard Yohji come in and freak out, asking him why too.Yohji? He went out, how did they find him? They both sounded so upset, about what though, his thoughts were getting less coherent, he forgot why he was in the hospital, what he did to himself. He heard Manx come in and ask questions of the team sitting in the room, Omi could hear them talking as they left the room. He then heard something different, silence, but not complete silence. He heard someone was still in the room, he could hear their quick shallow breaths. He felt someone standing over his bed and heard them say "Why Omi-kun, why would you do this? We cared so much about you, why didn't you come and talk to us? We all feel like this at one time or another, I could have helped you, I thought you trusted me." the voice belonged to Aya the frozen emotionless one, the one he assumed this would affect the least. Then he felt something wet and he knew Aya was crying for him, and he wanted at that moment for all of this to be a dream to go back to the beginning of this evening before it all happened. He knew though at that moment that he could have talked to his team, they would have understood his feelings. He knew that his death would hurt them more than his problems ever could have. He had a perfect moment of clarity knowing that it was too late, and his heart stopped.

How was it? Bad I know, but I finally was able to post something, I am just too tired to think of the consequences of actually posting one of my stories.


End file.
